


Be Still

by AngelOfLorien



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sad!Daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 00:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20898446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOfLorien/pseuds/AngelOfLorien
Summary: While in the cell at Sanctuary, Daryl contemplates surrender and is encouraged by a voice from the past.





	Be Still

_If terror falls upon your head_   
_ And sleep no longer comes_   
_ Remember all the words I said_   
_ Be still, be still, and know…_

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in this hell—days? Weeks?

Felt like a fuckin’ lifetime.

He’d thrown up again, purging his stomach of the measly scraps of garbage they’d deigned to give him. At least he’d managed to drag himself to the other side of the box this time.

He wouldn’t last much longer, not like this. Every time his battered body gave up the fight and fell asleep, it left those sumbitches to devise new and twisted ways to make sure it didn’t happen again for a while.

Maybe he should just say fuck it and let ‘em win. He wouldn’t fall in line, not a snowball’s chance in summer. Not after what that bastard did to Abraham and Glenn.

Guilt crashed down on him as Glenn’s death replayed in his head. It hadn’t been planned, hadn’t been part of Negan’s lesson. Not originally. No, Glenn was dead ‘cause he’d forced Negan’s hand, and that was on him.

Maybe he could move against Negan tomorrow—no way he’d win, seeing as his legs barely carried him and what little strength he had was tapped daily, cleaning shit and fighting walkers in the ring. But he could probably take out a couple of ‘em before they took him down. Hopefully at least that wormy one, Dwight.

Yeah, tomorrow’d be good. At least he could go out on his own terms instead of like some mongrel dog.

He curled in on himself, so used to wallowing in his own filth that the stench of the rags he wore didn’t even bother him no more. His eyes closed, even though he didn’t think he could sleep. Not with them right outside, waiting to inflict some new kinda fresh hell on him.

Truth was, he was scared. It wasn’t the dread he’d felt when the Governor had destroyed the prison and his family had been scattered to the wind, or the blind panic that’d made him vainly chase a car for hours the night Beth had been snatched away from him. For the first time in a while, he was scared for himself. More scared than he’d been out on the road fighting walkers. More scared than he’d been when they’d found Alexandria and he thought he was ‘bout to go back to being forgotten again, an outcast.

_“You were made for how things are now.”_

His heartbeat ratcheted up. He knew that sweet voice as well as his own, had heard it in his head a thousand times since he’d lost her. Sometimes she said things she’d told him when she was alive, sometimes he imagined her saying things he’d yearned for her to say. Either way, he didn’t want her here now. Didn’t want her to see him like this, as absurd as that notion was.

“You ain’t really here.” He kept his eyes shut, not wanting to confirm that he was still alone in the dark. Might be he was going crazy—maybe he had been for a while now, talking to the dead and all. He pictured her face, pure and angelic by his recollection, except her brows were drawn in clear disapproval.

_“Talking about quitting? Lettin’ them kill you? That ain’t like you.”_

“You don’t know me.”

Now she crossed her arms over her lanky frame and shook her head, hurt flashing through her big blue eyes_. “You’re being a jackass.”_

“I’m tired, Beth. I ain’t gettin’ out of this.”

_“Wouldn’t kill you to have a little faith.”_

He sighed. “Told you before, faith ain’t done shit for us. Took us from one nightmare to the next, and this’n’s the worst yet.”

_“So you’re just giving up? You never gave up tryin’ to find me.”_

“Lotta good it did, too.” His face pinched as he struggled with his emotions. “I can’t do it anymore, Greene. Losin’ people…” He shook his head. “You, Merle, Glenn…all of you’s gone ‘cause of me.”

_“Bullshit!”_ The word, shouted at him in a conversation he’d had ages ago, echoed in his ears just like she was sitting beside him. _“You bow out now and nothin’ we went through matters. You think everything’s screwed, and this time you might be right. But you don’t get to blame yourself for me or any of the rest of us dyin’. You want to give up, then you man up and call it what it is: you’re afraid.” _

He screwed his eyes tighter as tears made mud tracks on his cheeks. “I am.”

She knelt beside him and god help him, he could _feel_ her there. Petting his nasty hair, touching his grimy cheek. Things he’d wanted her to do since she’d wrapped her arms around his middle at that moonshiner’s cabin.

Her voice was gentle when she spoke. _“Remember how I told you one time that all I wanted to do was lay down and cry, but we don’t get to do that? You have to keep fighting. You have to stay alive.”_

“Why?” he asked on a ragged whisper.

_“Because I didn’t get to.”_

He huddled deeper into his corner, imagining burrowing against her while she cradled his shoulders and head. She continued to brush his face with phantom touches he couldn’t lean into.

_“You said I gotta keep reminding you, so here it is. You gotta stay who you are. You’re strong. A survivor. The last man standing,”_ she added with a soft smile. _“You’re gonna do everything you can to stay alive in here, and when the time comes and you get out—and you will get out—you’re gonna go get the rest of our family and you’re gonna rain down all kinds of hell on this place. You hear me?”_

He nodded. “I hear ya.” She fell quiet, and after a minute he whispered, “Don’t go just yet, a’ight?”

She giggled, the sound ringing cheerily around the box. _“You’re gonna miss me so bad when I’m gone, Daryl Dixon.”_

“I do miss you, girl,” he said. He was settling down, body giving in to exhaustion and malnutrition. “I’m sorry I lost you.”

_“You didn’t. I’m here, ain’t I?”_ She kissed his cheek, and oh, how he wished she was real.

As he flirted with unconsciousness, his lips curved slightly. “No y’ain’t.”

_“Yeah, I am. You’re never gonna be rid of me. I ripped right past the walls of that shuttered-up heart of yours, and that’s where I’ll be when you need me.”_ She placed her hand over his heart and hummed a soothing tune.

In that special moment between waking and sleeping, Daryl saw her. Standing in the sunshine, blonde hair lit like a halo. She took his hand like she’d done so long ago, linking their fingers together. Only this time, there was a smile on her face. They walked the road together a while, enjoying the breeze and the warmth of the sun. And it was beautiful.


End file.
